Seasons and Treasons, Moments and Minutes
by Writer Awakened
Summary: FE8, post-game. Seth/Natasha in four chapters, four seasons. "This love might be reckless, but it is pure and honest, and it is OURS." Part II: The hot, sweaty passion of summer, wherein Seth somehow sleeps with the mother of his lover. Feeeeedback...
1. Spring

**Part I**: _Spring, OR, What Things Were in the Quietest Season_

-

Natasha walked a long and lonely road. So she had pledged to her goddess and to her light and savior, the Saint in Heaven above, Blessed Latona.

_Thou shalt walketh barefoot this long and lonely road_

_And when thy feet fail, I shall carry you_

There was no need from Natasha to walk from Rausten, where the final battle against the Demon King had taken place, to her homeland of Grado. A merchant caravan from Carcino, known and trusted by the lords of Rausten and Renais and Frelia alike, moved southwest through the suddenly peaceful continent towards the ruined country. Natasha sat inside one of the covered wagons. Her nightly prayers for their collective good health and wealth were the only payment the merchants required. One of them—Lily Bell was her name, or something similar, Natasha couldn't remember—had even given her a ring of prayer beads.

_O Blessed Saint,_

_Give us light so that we may see the truth_

_Give us bread so that we may taste our victory_

_Give us speed so that we may feel your hand guide our wings_

_Give us lavender so that we may smell the garden in the promised world_

_Give us the wind so that we may hear Your Word whispered to us_

_Give us to-day so that we may give you to-night_

_Ah shan_

In the daytime, she often sat and read one of the books she carried with her in a satchel. She must have read _The Confessions of Saint Julistine _half a hundred times, and she guarded its familiarly musty yellowed pages as she would her modesty. Sometimes she leaned back against the side of the wagon and listened to the sound of the wheels turning. Sometimes she devoted all her attention to the fruit she ate, savoring and giving thanks for every bite of every apple the way Latona taught Her children to, feeling embarrassed when she bit into a peach and the juices dribbled down her chin onto her bright white habit.

_Mother Saint_

_In your grace_

_Show us to our salvation_

_For you are our wings_

_And on your back_

_Rides the grace of the Everlasting Divinity_

_Ah shan_

In the nights, she prayed. The nights were hardest of all for Natasha. At night she saw the face of the man she loved. He had tidy red hair and a sharp, handsome face with small eyes that never left hers when they spoke. He was tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, and when he stood in front of her with his shield and sword as he had done many times, she always felt half a princess. She wondered if he was back in Renais already.

In her dreams, she often heard the voice of her goddess calling out to her, but as she listened she realized it was his voice, always his voice, and always he would appear before her dressed all in white, white breastplate and white greaves and white vest and he would whisper sweet words to her, call her his guardian spirit, and always he reached his hand out to her gently and always she went to him, and always she woke the moment before their hands touched. When she woke, she felt empty.

She carried her emptiness with her as the caravan rolled on. The feeling was never far from her chest, never far from her stomach, never far from her legs when she walked around to stretch. Natasha sat in a wagon furthest from the van, in a series of three wagons hooked together, pulled by three mules. The first wagon housed the driver and several barrels of ale, the second held stores of dried meat, and the third held Natasha and the fruit. She knew that she was never truly alone when she knew the love and guidance of her savior Latona; still, with no one to speak to, she felt alone nevertheless. The silver pendant with the two wings of Latona Ascendant—the symbol of her religion—was never far from her breast.

Natasha missed her old friends back in Grado: Yulie, Anastasia, Nancy, Connor, even Marde, the young monk she'd met when she joined the clergy, the boy she fell in love with long ago, when she still thought and felt like a girl with no vows.

Natasha was a woman now and the world was a different place, but the closer she came to her homeland, the more the old feelings returned. Now it was a knight and not a monk, but the doubts were the same. She had taken a vow of chastity, a vow of celibacy, a vow that no love on earth would ever exceed her love for her goddess.

_That I should have these feelings even now, even after all my prayers…am I beyond redemption? Everyone thought me so pious, but they could not know how I feel…_

It was the evening and the world outside the wagon was dark and quiet. Even the insects were hushed. Natasha peered past the cloth at the back of the wagon and watched the sky darken with thunderheads.

When she returned to her place near the oranges and apples and leaned against the wall, Natasha thought about the war she had promised herself she would forget. She had seen corpses strewn about, saw limbs and heads scattered on the fields of dead, saw the red blood spilled from friends and foes alike. She had learned light magic and knew how it felt to smite with the pearlescent hand of the goddess. She had smelt the sulfur breath of demons and wights while her allies laid them low. She had been cut by bloody claws, knew what it felt like to hurt, knew what her blood tasted like, had sighed underneath a stream of holy water when she cleansed blood from her scalp, from her cheeks, from her chest, from her arms.

But she had always felt safe standing behind the vanguard, always behind Seth, who had looked back at her often to ensure she was not tiring or injured. Sometimes she caught him looking back at her for no apparent reason. His concern flattered her, but she was more concerned for him. There were some in the party who needed healing more often than others, but Seth came to her wounded the most. Every time he came, he crept closer and closer to death, and once he had come to her only inches from death and her heart fell headlong into her stomach until he rose to his feet and thanked her and only then was she certain he would live. That was when she realized she was in love. She had tried to avoid him from then on, prayed that he would not look at her again and tempt her, but he always came for healing, and sometimes when he did she became inexplicably angry and could not even speak.

The air outside was almost completely black. Natasha stretched.

_I said my vows that I might be set free, my soul released from its earthly chains…so, why do I feel trapped?_

She almost didn't want to see what her beautiful motherland looked like after the war. She knew that many skirmishes between Grado and Renais' soldiers had taken place across the countryside besides the ones she saw herself. From the whispers she'd heard, there had also been a small earthquake and a landslide, and if what the shadow magi said was correct, they would not be the last disasters the country would suffer.

_What if these disasters are divine retribution for the atrocities that Grado has committed? _she had often thought. _If I were to aid the victims, would I be going against the will of Latona?_

Natasha gave thanks and peeled an orange slowly and methodically, occasionally feeling a squirt of juice hop up to lick her face. The teachings of Latona would have her take a sort of inner peace in simple activities, but when the thick rind stuck under her ivory nails it only frustrated her. She ate the orange quickly while she listened to the sound of rain being born, gentle as kisses. The wagon moved at a slow but steady rhythm, _ka-rump, ka-rump, ka-rump_.

Natasha sat back and felt herself blush deep. Sometimes her dreams were of a different sort: When she woke, she forgot the places and the sights, only remembering the _sensations _and the emotions. Always it was a feeling of ecstasy, a white-hot, liberating sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before, and although she never _saw_ him, she could _feel_ Seth, feel his presence overwhelming her, thrilling her. In those dreams she felt closer to Heaven than she ever did when she prayed. It was her secret; the only man she might ever have voiced her concerns to had been called traitor and murdered.

_O Latona, please tell me what I am to do. I don't know what to believe or where my place is in this world…please guide me to the answer. Please send me a sign._

Natasha closed her heavy eyes. Seconds later or perhaps minutes, she opened her eyes to a flash of white and heard a loud bass rumble of thunder. She laughed and remembered a hymn.

_As we travel freely_

_Through these troubled lands of waste_

_We find the sagest council in_

_What the thunder speaks…_

Natasha sighed away the tension in her shoulders and the thoughts of the day. She was going home, of that she was certain. It was about the only thing she was certain of. Natasha crossed her healing staff over her chest and fell asleep to the sound of rain.


	2. Summer

**Part II**: _Summer, OR, What Things Are in the Season of Heat_

-

Seth rides because if he doesn't, he knows he will die. He can never ride back, only forward, for if he turns back he will be hunted, maybe by arrows or long spears, maybe by the honor he left beside, maybe by his own doubts that nip at him like dogs at his horse's heels.

_The things we do for love, _he thinks. _There was someone else who cast aside his honor for love…_

The traitor Orson's words sting Seth, stronger now that the war is over. Seth can still hear his dead, monotone laughter echoing through the austere stone halls of his liege's castle.

_Am I now forever resigned to be interred in a traitor's tomb? Or not even that…_

For a time, a part of Seth had felt betrayed as well. Before the war ended, he had asked Sister Natasha's hand in marriage and she had held it out for him, but he would not give his hand in hers, not until the terrible war had ended. But the Demon King had been slain and Natasha had disappeared before Seth could kneel at her feet and formally propose. She had returned to Grado in a merchant caravan, so he had heard—and his place was in Renais, training the squires and able peasant folk who came to replace the fallen knights and soldiers, and there were enough of those. He promised to make her happy, but it was not enough.

_Sister Natasha…what would you think of me now, casting aside my duties, _my_ vows? You remained loyal to your beliefs, but I…_

Almost as soon as he had returned to his homeland, Seth gathered his things and set off after no more than a few goodbyes. He had asked Ephraim for a days' leave with the knowledge that he would most definitely not return in a day. By now, the prince has already become the king, and the coronation banquet has ended, and the knights that remained have gathered with two of their most lauded generals absent, in a country still smoking from the fires of war.

General Seth does whatever he can to ease his mind, which amounts to very little. The grassy highlands all look the same and only the gray-blue outlines of mountains far off in the distance change. The sound of his courser's hooves clomping fades into the background as he charges south through the fields. Riding alone, Seth has nothing to chase his thoughts away as they glide in to possess him.

_Am I being too forward?_

_…what if I am being too forward? What that I should make her uncomfortable…_

…_I must be mad…I must be mad…I should turn around. I could make it back to the castle before sunset. Tomorrow I could instruct the new recruits. I am _needed_ there. Natasha does not _need_ me…_

_It is not too late. It is still not too late. If I turn around now…_

Seth gnaws at his lip. He grips the reins of his horse so tightly he can feel them cutting into his palms, numbing his hands.

Orson's words bite into Seth because they are true. The traitor had called the duties of a knight "unfulfilling," and his dead voice follows Seth like a faithful squire wherever he goes. No one, not his family nor his friends nor the knights and lords know how Seth truly feels, and he doesn't dare tell them. No one knows that once he had considered taking his beloved princess far, far away, to a place where they could safely turn a blind eye to the scars of the battlefield. No one knew that he sometimes wondered if it were all just a charade, this thing their tongue called "knighthood."

Whenever Seth went into battle, there was no man or woman afoot or ahorse who could lay him low, but when the fighting died down, his feelings hamstrung him and took him prisoner. "What are you really fighting for?" they would ask in their merciless tones, and Seth could only say "I don't know." Seth promised and promised and promises and promises to himself that no, never, never ever will he subvert his sworn life services, whatever temptation might come.

When he rides, he repeats this to himself religiously, as if saying it until the end of time will make it true.

The road from Renais south to Grado is long, but Seth rides regardless. When the night falls he tethers his horse in a small grove, feeds him oats, and camps for the night. He lies in the dirt and looks up through a break in the canopy at the starless sky.

_What was I meant to do in this life? What is my purpose? Am I meant to desert my country now?  
_

Seth pulls from his pocket a keepsake his mother once gave him long ago: a small, slightly-tarnished brass pendant of the two connected wings of Latona Ascendant. He holds it up to the moonlight, examines it, then closes it in his hand. Whenever he closes his eyes and tries to see the angels, all he sees is Natasha, loving and chaste in her pearl robes, watching over him on gossamer wings. Sometimes when he dreams, she shrugs off her robes to reveal the beautiful nothing underneath: the pink haloes on her breasts, her shimmering gold hair, the pure white feathers that flutter to the ground when he reaches up to her. The feathers keep him away, fall stronger the more desperately he tries to reach towards her, towards the heavens, towards her warm embrace. Seth always wakes with the feeling of feather between his fingers.

_Ah, _Goddess_, I am a weak man! _he thinks forcefully. The dark sky is unsympathetic._ Why did I wish to be a knight?_

Seth supposes that all boys aspire to be knights when they are young. It was true for him, long ago. His life could be traced from fantastic storybooks to wooden knights to blunted play swords to squire's vestments. He remembers the day he was knighted as clear as he remembers his mother's face. The day he received the Paladin's Honours is so fresh in his memory that he might well touch it if only he would reach out. That day, the bishop had poured holy water over his head and dubbed him a knight of goodness and faith. That day, he believed his honor would sustain him forever. On that day, when his fellow knights and the Paladins of the Order congratulated him and sung his praises, Seth felt as though he had gained a second family. His knights are his brothers, the late king was his father, but Renais, his homeland—Renais most of all is his mother. Natasha is his lover, but Renais is his _family_.

Back then, pride and his duty supplied all the mirth he needed to sustain himself. He always had someone to admire, always something distant but tantalizingly close. Simply protecting the princess of Renais, the woman he was smitten with, and fighting in her honor gave him joy enough. That was the extent of the "romance of the court" as far as the mores of their time were concerned. Maybe once he had wished for a more intimate relationship with her; if he ever dreamt of Princess Eirika, he cannot remember. Seth reflects; the war had changed his life more than he'd realized. He had never known that happy endings could be so bittersweet.

That night he rests little. What sleep does come is dreamless and brief.

At first light he rides again, with the pink-orange sun at his left. The fields around him are green and yellow and the air is filled with flower-dust, thick and insistent. He sneezes almost unceasingly until the noon-hour, when the ground dips into a valley and the air starts to clear. The day is warm, and before long he has perspired enough to coat his face. It takes nearly until the night for him to steel his resolve, but once it has been tempered and hammered into shape, his convictions are as implacable as the earth beneath his feet.

_I won't falter. When I see her, I'll tell her I have made my decision. Come the tides of hell and floods of shadow, I'll stand by my convictions. Even if she thinks me a terrible man._

By the evening, Seth reaches the border of Renais and Grado, and the soldiers of Renais stationed all along the watchtowers, with no other reason to get excited, bow their heads as he rides by. The wind begins to howl. The coming of the night has cooled the air pleasantly.

Less than an hour from the border, Seth comes across a village: not small, not large, but somewhere comfortably in-between. The one road is a simple path of gravel leading from one entrance of the village to the other in a more or less straight line. Houses of wood and stone still stand undisturbed, but many others are no more than charcoal husks. Others are under construction in the field off the road, some no more than simple foundations, worked on by men and boys in rags.

A modest inn sits diligently near the center of the settlement, stoic even though the fires have cut and bled and ravaged it. The front wall still stands, but the rest of it is only charred stone and debris scattered in large piles. Elsewhere, planks of wood lie at the side of the road alongside fallen tree branches and sometimes fallen trees. What trees remain bear the rich green leaves of summer, with rotting apples and half-apples strewn underneath.

Away from the gravel path, out in the grassy clearing, the people working stop and watch him walk by. Even from a hundred yards off, they clutch jealously onto their hammers and saws and half-eaten pieces of fruit, as though this knighted newcomer could rob them blind even at a distance. Seth can feel their eyes silently following him.

He knocks on the doors of the houses he passes, but no one answers. Night has fallen, and the skies to the south are steadily darkening, filling with ominous black thunderheads. At the storm's van is a cold wind that sweeps through the village, whipping Seth's cloak up around his heavy iron greaves. The prickles run across his flesh, up the sides of his arms and his neck. Seth holds his palm out and feels the first raindrop fall.

_What is this village's name? It's so close to the border, but it's still in Grado…I suppose they naturally mistrust anyone from Renais._

There are only three houses before the southern fence, the last three houses in the village. The rain begins to fall harder, suddenly accumulating into a steady torrent, and Seth's iron legs seem to weigh ten tons.

_Travel one day's north of here, and as if by magic, the villagers begin to dislike Grado instead. Even after the war, the common people stand on either side of an imaginary line and hate those on the other side. Where's the sense in that?_

Seth stands in front of a small stone house with a thatched roof and a large stone chimney bellowing smoke into the sky. The smell is rich, and reminds Seth of the bonfires he sat around as a child, eating and laughing and watching the smoke disappear into the starry sky with his friends. A pair of large silver wings, thoroughly weathered and tarnished, hangs on the wall above the doorframe. Still half absorbed in his memories, Seth knocks.

_I used to think like that. That people from Grado were incapable of kindness._

Seth is about to leave when the door opens and a woman with long blonde hair steps forward to greet him.

"Ah…are you in need of something, sir knight?" she says. The woman's voice is warm and kind. She looks at Seth curiously, but her blue eyes are not suspicious or accusing, only full of concern. When Seth does not answer, she says, "The rain is starting to fall more heavily, so please, please, come take shelter."

"T-Thank you," Seth says at last. For some reason, the sight of the woman has left him speechless, and for several moments he stands stupidly on the front step as the rain beats down on him.

_She's…_

Seth steps inside the house. It is moderately small, with a small wooden table for dining, a few bookshelves nestled in a far corner, and a set of three chairs around a small hearth. A cabinet with several broken hinges and what appeared to be a bed of straw covered by woolen blankets were the only other furnishings in the otherwise bare dwelling. The only light is cast by the fire, a dim radiance that gives the single room an immensely romantic feeling.

"Stand by the fire, sir," the woman says, and ushers Seth towards the hearth. He hurries across the room, trying to avoid dripping water on the wooden floor, and kneels on the stone beside the burgeoning flame as it dances ever upward. The feeling of warmth spreading from the outstretched tips of his fingers to his chest is a sensation like nothing earthly. He closes his eyes and sighs contentedly.

"Are you hungry, sir knight? I was about to cook a pot of stew…it is not much, but if you care to break bread I have half a loaf to share with you."

Seth turns away from the flame. When he sees her smiling, he can not help but smile himself. The woman looks little more than forty, garbed gracefully in a simple white dress and gray apron. Her eyes are tired-looking but kind and she wears a small smile with the utmost grace. She is short and fair and when Seth squints he can see the beginnings of gray gnawing at the roots of her gold hair.

_She's just so familiar. I wonder…_

Seth means only to thank her, but what he says instead is, "Why are you letting me into your home and giving me food? I am a knight of Renais."

"I know," she says, and the smile never abandons her face. "But the war is over, and you don't seem like you intend to kill me. You're a traveler, aren't you?"

"Yes," Seth says. For the first time, he notices the winged pendant hanging from her neck. "Thank you for your kindness. You are…a disciple of Latona," says he, finally realizing.

"I am not a member of the clergy, sir knight. Only a faithful woman who believes in the Word of Latona. The Saint would not turn aside one in need, and neither shall I." The kind woman clasps her hands together. "Please, take a seat. I'll prepare the stew for us."

Seth sits down in a chair and sighs. He massages his aching head and tries not to fall asleep. The sound of hymns carries through the house, and Seth sits with his eyes closed and his ears open, listening as the kind woman cooks the stew. She has a beautiful singing voice, and Seth remembers several of her hymns as ones his mother sang to him when he was a child. On nights when sleep did not come easily, and the entire night seemed to suffocate him, his mother sat by his bedside with a hymnal on her knee and sang, encouraging him to pray to the Goddess to grant him a tranquil slumber.

Still, something about the woman has been bothering him. The last thing Seth intends to do is impose, but before he can stop himself, he blurts, "Do you have any children?"

The woman stops singing and turns away from the fire.

"Ahh…forgive me," Seth says quickly. "It was rude of me to inquire so."

"No, no, sir knight. It is an honest question." The kind woman sits in the chair beside Seth and watches the flames lick the black kettle, crackling jovially. The rain _patter-patter-patter_s in perfect rhythm against the windowpane, so faraway that it seems to come from another world. "I have one daughter. But she moved away quite a while ago to serve Our Lady in an abbey."

"I see," Seth says slowly, his suspicions confirmed. She smiles at him kindly and returns to tend the hearth.

_I think…I inadvertently met Natasha's mother_, Seth thinks, amused. _To that end, I don't know a lot about her family, do I?_

When the stew is finished, the blonde woman ladles it out into two wooden bowls and hands one to Seth along with a small chunk of bread and a cup of boiled water. She sits in the chair beside him. Seth stirs the stew with his wooden spoon and breathes in the smell of meat and spices. Starving, he takes a spoonful of potatoes and nearly scalds his mouth in the process.

He is halfway through his stew when the woman says, "If you don't mind my asking, sir knight, would you tell me your name? I've found that every traveler has his own story." She smiles serenely again, and she reminds him of Natasha so much when she does that Seth's heart misses a beat.

"My name is Seth," he answers, "of Renais. I am—was—er…am a general. I'm traveling south to find a—a dear friend of mine."

"I see," she replies. Her smile widens. The fire crackles and the rain outside almost seems to be falling harder as the night grows older. A few minutes pass.

"My daughter became acquainted with a general of Renais," the woman says off-handedly. "She sent me several letters about him, telling me how handsome he was, how caring he was, what a gentleman he was, how enamored of him she was. She always wrote about how she wanted to stay with him even after the war ended. It was so cute to read."

Seth fidgets in his chair.

"If I knew where to send the falcon, I would have wrote her back…oh, I'm sorry," she says, noticing Seth's discomfort. "I'm sure you don't wish to hear about my family."

Seth shakes his head. "No, no, on the contrary. If you wish to tell me, I would love to hear."

"Well then…it's been a while since I've had anyone else here with me. Sometimes the other people in the villages come by, but ever since my husband died, I've been here alone."

_Natasha's father is dead? _Seth thinks, crestfallen.

"I-If I—if I may ask, how did your husband…leave this world?" he asks gently.

"It was not very long ago, actually." The blonde woman clutches possessively onto the silver wings at the end of her pendant. Seth watches her closely. She turns her head to look out the window into the pouring rain; her gaze is faraway. "He was a soldier. At the beginning of the war, he was fighting in a small skirmish between advance parties just north of the border. I didn't know what had happened. All I heard was that we were going to war with Renais."

_I wasn't at the border then, but I probably knew the soldier who killed her husband… _Seth bites his knuckles.

"Well, two days later, one of the survivors, a friend of the family, came back and brought my husband's pendant home to me. His was gold, but it had the wings of Latona Ascendant, just like these. Both of us are very devout people, you see. I suppose that is why my daughter left to serve in a convent. She takes after her parents."

"I'm sorry," is all Seth can manage. His voice is hoarse and his words feel hollow the moment they leave his lips.

"You've nothing to be sorry for, Sir Seth. There are things that are beyond all our control."

"If I may ask…this village…" Seth looks down at his feet. "All the destruction here…the soldiers and knights of Renais, were they the ones who—"

"No," the kind woman says quickly. "We were attacked by bandits…shortly after the war began, a brigand group came down from the mountains and took advantage of the chaos. All but a few of the men had already mobilized for the invasion. We were able to fight them off, but not before they burned down anything they could.

"After the war, more soldiers from Renais came south through the village than Gradan soldiers. We asked whomever came through for help rebuilding, but no one would stop or even look at us. They were all heading for the capital…I heard there have been terrible landslides and earth tremors in the south."

She opens her hand and the silver wings sitting in her palm catch the firelight.

"I'm sure the people in the capital need food and aid more than we do," she says. "At least we've enough to eat for now. I thank the Goddess every day for our blessings."

"I will see to it that your village is cared to," Seth says. He turns to her and tries to make her understand his sincerity with his eyes. "Your plight will not go unnoticed, this I promise."

"Thank you," she replies.

As they eat, they share stories of their experiences; Seth is careful not to reveal any more than absolutely necessary. He makes sure he wastes none of his bread and eats his stew down to the bare dregs. There is little spice in it, the meat is chewy, and the bread is stale, but it is perhaps the most satisfying meal he has eaten since his childhood, when his mother always found ways to put a warm meal on the table. When Seth is finished eating, he thanks the kind woman profusely.

"There is yet more stew, Sir Seth, if you're still hungry."

"No, I'm quite fine, thank you," Seth replies. "I don't want to impose on you any more than is necessary."

"It's no imposition at all," she says, and smiles. "Are you weary, Sir Seth? Perhaps you would like to retire for the night?"

"A-Ah…" Seth glances at the straw bedding in the corner of the room. He feels his neck and his ears grow hot. "I could not ask you to—to quarter a knight in your home during peacetime. Besides, there's only one bed here."

The kind woman laughs. "Oh, don't worry about that! It's more than big enough for two people. It's just a pile of straw packed and spread thin, after all."

_Is she…seriously suggesting that I sleep in her bed? She can't be serious._

"If that bothers you, Sir Seth, I would be glad to sleep in a chair by the fire tonight. After days of traveling and sleeping on the hard ground, it would be nice to sleep on a straw bed, wouldn't it?"

_God of gods, she _is_ serious._

"Ah, well, no, I—I mean, I would not—could not—"

"Nonsense!" she says, rising up. "Now, I'm sure you should like to remove your armor. There is a privy chamber connected to the back of the house—" she points to a small room beyond a wooden door in the corner— "where you can undress. If you wouldn't mind waiting in there while I change into my nightgown?"

Seth stumbles into the privy chamber like a man in a trance. The chamber itself is painfully small, lit only by the moonlight coming down with the rains from the open sky. Seth relieves himself in the latrine and removes his haubergeon and plates until he wears naught but his tunic, doublet and trousers. When the kind woman calls to say it is all right to come out, he wanders back into the house. She has already retired to bed and pulled a woolen blanket over herself, and the fire has already burned down to ash.

Seth hesitantly walks over to the straw bed and lies down, his back facing hers, his hands tightly pressed to his chest. They are not close enough to touch, but despite the cold rain and crackling thunder outside, his face has gone hot. Seth feels the kind woman pull the blanket up to cover them both and he tries to make himself comfortable.

"Good night, Sir Seth," she says.

_I think…I am sleeping with Natasha's mother, _Seth thinks, half amused, half utterly mortified. He pinches himself to confirm that he hasn't fallen asleep yet. It's almost too surreal to believe.

_That she would let me into her home, give me food, and let me sleep under her roof… _Seth rolls onto his back and looks up longingly at the ceiling. _Goddess of mine, is this your work? _Seth closes his heavy, heavy eyes and sleep comes quickly. _Thank you, my Goddess…_

Seth wakes early the next morning to find the house empty. The morning sun blazes joyfully through the windows and the sky is bright and cloudless. He dons his armor and his surcoat and is about to leave when the woman enters.

"Ah! Good morning."

"For everything you have done for me, I thank you kindly," Seth says, bowing his head slightly. "I must take my leave of you now, but I will never forget this kindness you have accorded me. Thank you."

"It was the very least I could do, Sir Seth. You have a kind heart too."

Seth is almost out the door when the kind woman calls out to him. When he turns around, she stands near him and her sea-blue eyes meet his.

"Please," she says, "love my daughter well. We were put on this earth so that we could carry each other when we fall. She needs someone to treat her kindly."

Seth swallows. _So she knows who I am. She must have known all along…that was why she trusted me so. _"I…I love her…beyond description," says he, when no suitable words come to him. "I would stay with her forever."

Natasha's mother reaches out and strokes Seth's cheek. "Would you please not tell her about her father? The war has taken such a toll on her; I can tell in the letters she sends me. When all this trouble has gone away, I want to be the one to tell her." She clutches tightly onto the silver wings around her neck.

Seth nods.

"Saint Latona bless you with Her love," Natasha's mother says then, smiling serenely, and Seth departs with a glance backwards and a wave.

He rides quickly, pushing his horse to gallop as fast as comfortably possible. The rest of the townsfolk watch him as he rides south out of the village; today their eyes have more warmth for him.

The journey south takes him across wide fields and through rocky vales, and besides several steep trails, it is relatively easy going save for the sweltering heat. His armor does not make it any more bearable. Summer is the worst season of all for a knight, he reckons.

As Seth rides on, the terrain becoming no more than an afterthought, his daydreams turn to the kind, blonde woman who gave him shelter, and then to her blonde daughter, the woman he loves.

_She reminds me of my own mother, _he thinks about Natasha's mother, and about Natasha herself he thinks, _We could be a family…_

Suddenly Seth feels his chest begin to tighten, and his eyes begin to water. He knows it is not because of the pollen. He grits away whatever tears are there and wipes them off with a gauntleted hand.

_We could be more than just lovers. We could be…part of a family…together. A family. Someday. Someday we will. Natasha, beautiful…_

It is the middle of the afternoon by the time he reaches the great stone abbey at the northern edge of the capital, by some miracle intact amongst the swath of rubble further to the south. After a few minutes of asking, Seth finds the abbess and learns that Natasha is in a village to the west, where countless homes have been destroyed by a great landslide.

Seth rides on, and when he speaks to the townsfolk in the battered town, they all tired and dirty but alive and well, each person tells the same story of an angel, a guardian spirit who healed their wounds and gave them hope. The women in the center of the village tell him she has gone to take a respite from her work, and the men rebuilding the broken houses direct him to a nearby field, where the waves of rock from the mountain have not touched the sea of green.

He sees Natasha with her hood down, standing in solitude in the middle of the verdant field, looking off into the distance. Seth tethers his horse, removes his gauntlets, and strides over to meet her beneath the shade of a great oak.

"Sister Natasha," Seth says.

Natasha whirls around and gasps when she sees him. His heart races. None of his dreams could compare to seeing her, his golden-haired surprise dressed all in white, shimmering in the sunlight. She is more beautiful than he can believe. Seth struggles to control his urges; it is all he can do not to take her in his arms and make love to her long, day and night, hour after hour, so she will understand how much she means to him, how hollow and useless words are to describe his feelings.

Her white habit is lashed with dirt and soot and the fringes have started to tear where the cloth had dragged across the ground. Her neck glistens with sweat and the silver wings of Latona hang near her breast. "Seth!"

"Forgive me for appearing here unannounced, but I—I needed to see you again." Seth walks up to her until she is almost close enough to touch. He speaks carefully and politely, deathly afraid of offending her. Near the end of the war—a time that seems long ago now—he had asked her to live with him suddenly, and she had returned to Grado without him. This time, he makes certain that _he_ will follow _her_, no matter her choice.

Seth's heart hammers the steel inside his chest. "I know your sacred oaths and your motherland are important to you, and—if my presence here is distasteful to you, I will leave immed—"

She interrupts him with a kiss, grabbing fistfuls of his doublet, pulling him tight to her. She smells like fresh grass and flowers and hard work and her mouth tastes of mint and fennel and fruit. Seth embraces her, touching her shoulders, pulling her close. When their kiss ends, she rests her head on his metal chest and he strokes her hair. She is warm and soft and she fits nicely in his arms. When she is here, nestled in his embrace, and he holds her tight, his misgivings all turn to ash and disappear.

"I love you, Natasha," Seth says. He moves a strand of hair from her eyes. His fingers curl around and clasp the sleeves of her habit.

"I love you too," she answers.

"But you have an obligation to fulfill, I know. Your duties are first and foremost to your clergy and to your people. And thus…if your vows keep you here, giving charity to your people, I _understand_."

_Why do we men want the things that are forbidden to us?_

"You have taken vows as well, Seth."

"I vowed I would make you happy," he whispers as he cradles her. "I hope I have not…failed in my duty."

"You haven't," Natasha says, bringing him back to the present. Her eyes have all the gentleness of rain, and her hair is as lively as the summer sun. "You haven't failed. You came to me."

Seth smiles. Inside, he sighs with relief. "I'm glad to see you are all right. I trust your work is going well? The tremors seemed to have hit this area hard."

Natasha's smile fades away. "Yes. I was surprised to see how many people were injured. The village at the base of the mountain was taken by a terrible landslide, and the capital was struck by a great earthquake. It's a miracle more people haven't…there have been people coming from all around since I came. I am…rather exhausted, actually."

"I hope you haven't been overexerting yourself," Seth says. Then he grins. "You work so hard I think I should call you 'the construct'!"

"I-I do only what I must. I'm a holy woman; I am obliged to help all I can."

"Ha ha, come now, I was only teasing! If not for your efforts, I would not be standing here now." He rests a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "But sometimes I think you help everyone else at the expense of your own health. Especially in this heat, it would not do to push yourself. Please."

The night insects have already begun to whirr and chirp in the early evening. The primal sounds of their call-and-answer inexorably remind Seth of Renaisian summer, to the point that when he closes his eyes he can imagine himself as a boy, running in the fields with his wooden sword, wondering just how far his ambition could take him.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Natasha says. "I know my limits now. I won't overdo it, promise."

"Here," Seth says, taking her arm in his. He gestures to a bluff to the west overlooking the setting sun. "Let us walk."

As they walk, they talk about little things, things they did when they returned from the war, after they'd parted company. When she speaks, Seth listens intently, not so much to her words as to the sound of her voice. Her voice is beyond beautiful. Sometimes during the conflict he would go to her with only a minor injury just so he could hear her pray for him. Even the way she says his name makes his heart murmur and sigh. There is only one other woman who speaks so elegantly, and she is many leagues away, preparing her gowns and jewels for life as her brother's sister.

At the top of the bluff, Seth and Natasha stand overlooking the field and the cluster of other villages far off in the distance. The skyline above the distant mountains is a peaceful sea of color, casting stationary whirlpools of pink and orange against the blue waves, rich like fruit swirled in fresh cream. As the sun begins to melt and the sky darkens, a cool breeze blows over the heights and rustles Natasha's hair. Seth stands beside his lover and brings an arm to rest around her shoulders.

"Tomorrow I must pray to the Mother for my country," Natasha says, with the tone of a handmaiden simply detailing her daily duties. "That we have no more natural disasters. And I must pray that my friends are all well. And my family. I—I have had no opportunity to visit my mother and father since I returned."

"Ahh…yes," says Seth, kicking at the ground. He bites at his lip. "I will pray for them as well. Let's go visit them when all this is done—_together_."

"Ah? Yes, I should introduce you to them, shouldn't I?" Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"But not now. Soon," Seth says. He turns to her and hopes that she understands that while she may not be his _only_ thing, she is his _everything_. "When our obligations are finished. I love you, Natasha, but I love my country as well. That's my home…the place of my parents' birth, the place I was raised…taught the ways of a knight…_my_ place. I know my place. I _must_ return."

"I know."

"But I want you," Seth says, clasping her hands in his. He wants her, this at least he knows. He wants to see her smile every morning when he wakes. He wants to give her what she cannot not give herself, just as she offered him what he could never have alone. He wants to know her in a way even the Goddess does not. "I want to make you happy. I want to give you a reason to be optimistic."

"I want to be," Natasha says. Her tender pink lips mouth her words gently and softly.

There is something in the way Natasha carries herself that reminds Seth so much of Princess Eirika. The cleric holds herself with an air of melancholy, a sort of subtle sadness evident in everything she does—from the way she walks to the way she speaks. The way Seth can best describe it is an awareness of the transience of things, the things experienced in life that must one day be let go. She is a melancholy person, but only because she cares. Natasha watches the orange sun fall slowly, slowly behind the horizon, without ever looking down.

They stand in silence together and watch the sun disappear.

"When your work here is finished…" Seth says finally, and he falls to one knee. For a moment he feels like a child again, a young man at long last receiving his dubbing as a knight proper. "Natasha, will you take my hand in matrimony?"

Seth kisses her hand and she all she can do is gape awkwardly at him and struggle for breath.

"I-I've no ring to give you, but…" Seth reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tarnished brass pendant with the two wings of Latona. "It isn't much, but it belonged to my mother, and it means a lot to me. Your mother did something indescribably kind for me…this is all I can do in return."

Natasha gently takes the pendant and grasps it in her hand. She trembles, and to Seth's surprise, she starts to cry.

"N-Natasha?"

_A tarnished gift… _Seth scolds himself. _She deserves something far more valuable than that…what was I thinking?_

Natasha sobs and smiles. She holds her arms out with such need and Seth embraces her. He buries his face in her golden hair and she puts her lips nearly against Seth's ear and rests while she cries. He cannot stand to hear her cry. He can hear each one of her sobs painfully clearly and he is about to apologize for the poor gift when she whispers, so softly it is almost inaudible, "Thank you."

When they finally pull apart, Seth reaches out and wipes the tears away from under her eyes with his finger. The pendant is still in her hand, and she clutches onto it as though it were her soul itself.

"It's beautiful," is all Natasha can manage to say. Her voice is still full of tears. She looks down at her feet and sniffles.

"Natasha," says Seth. "I have to return to Renais. My kingdom calls out to me. But, in the autumn, after you've done all you can for your clergy and the people here in Grado…will you come to live with me in Renais? I need you. I need you to be with me."

He waits for her answer, and shortly she composes herself enough to reply.

"Yes. When the leaves turn, I will go to Renais with you, Seth."

"I will come back for you," Seth insists. One 'yes' and in an instant he feels good enough to smile. One 'yes' and suddenly, even a world after war doesn't seem so terrible to him—suddenly, everything seems manageable. "When your work is done, I'll be there to take you."

"Hey, remember how you said you wanted to give me a reason to be optimistic?" Natasha pauses and laughs. "Well…I think you have."

Smiling, Seth leans down to kiss her, savors the way her feather fingers stroke his cheeks as she cradles his face in her hands. He kneads her golden hair just as he needs the rest of her. When he holds Natasha close, he can feel her good heart beating.

Autumn can't come soon enough.


End file.
